Defy the Heavens
by Colorado1
Summary: Marguerite faces her hardest challenge yet: saving Roxton from a sure death


These characters aren't mine, except for Sinnia and Loma. I am still very poor.

Thanks to my beta Ryalin for her dedication and excellent suggestions.

Defy the Heavens

by Colorado

"This is just great," muttered Ned Malone as he unsuccessfully tried to untie the ropes that anchored his wrists tightly to the wooden pole behind him. He shot the beautiful heiress next to him a withering look. "Just great."

Marguerite avoided his piercing blue eyes by staring at their captors. The band of thieves, only six or seven in number, stood near a small fire several yards away. She fought in vain with her bindings. _What's good for the gander is good for the goose, she thought angrily, glaring at their leader, Scot. __He's the thief here! Who's he to say I can't help myself to one little diamond…_

As if he had read her thoughts, Scot turned toward her. His red-and-gray stubble made his bloated cheeks look even dirtier. "Struggling will do you no good, woman. You're here to stay." 

Marguerite stared into his murky blue-brown eyes. "Well, if I'm to stay here, maybe we can talk about more comfortable accommodations." She raised her eyebrows and looked towards the rundown shack on the other side of the fire.

He sized up her slim figure in a way that made Marguerite's stomach turn. "As tempting as you are, revenge will be so much sweeter! We have other things planned for you!" With that he grasped her chin and planted a hard, unwelcome kiss on her lips. 

She spat on the ground as he walked away. "We have many powerful friends with great armies! They'll be here to rescue us!" 

"Rescue? I'd like to see that!"

Marguerite's bravado wavered. The bandits had chosen an excellent location to camp in. The tiny, desolate box canyon was situated miles away from the Zanga village. On both sides and in front of Marguerite and Malone rose hills as high as the tree house. A small passageway directly in front of them was the only way into and out of the canyon, and heavily armed men guarded it. No one could attempt a frontal attack without being seen or heard. Behind her she could only see a mass of tall bushes and smelled the faint foul stench of sulfur. 

"They have many ways of fighting," Malone chimed in. "If I were you, I'd pull your guards from the front and watch your rear flank."

At this remark, all the men laughed. "Did you hear that? Our rear flank!" Scot doubled over with laughter. "Only if they're coming from hell!" 

Marguerite and Malone looked at one another in confusion. His anger at her had melted as he had helplessly watched Scot kiss her. "I marked the trail. Roxton and Veronica will track us," he tried to reassure her.

Marguerite nodded as tears of shame filled her eyes. Only yesterday afternoon, she, Malone, and Summerlee had been in the Zanga village to get coffee beans. In the evening, Assai had told her a legend about a hidden temple filled with precious jewels. Marguerite had casually mentioned her desire to explore the temple that morning and noted Malone's apprehension. Ever since slavers had kidnapped her, Marguerite's friends were very protective of her. Had she used that knowledge to guilt Malone into going with her to the temple? 

She looked at the ground in remorse. They had assured Summerlee their side excursion would only take an hour or two, and he'd agreed to wait at the village. Assai's retelling of the legend had been exact. They found the small structure hidden under years of jungle overgrowth. They had been inside only few minutes when the men came. Malone darted out a rear exit, but Marguerite hid behind an altar and watched the robbers loot the temple. They filled their sacks with handfuls of diamonds. She had just wanted one. She was so sure she could grab it and sneak out….

_John, I am so sorry, she thought sadly. Her conscience pricked at the new worry and grief she was undoubtedly causing Lord John Roxton, the love of her life. She had put him through enough in the past year. _

"Don't worry," Ned said. "I think I…."

He stopped abruptly as a bright light twinkled in his eyes briefly. He scanned the top of the hill to his left. Suddenly, there was another flash, this time from the right hill. "Marguerite, they're here," he whispered. "Up there."

She looked up quickly, but the horizon seemed to be bouncing. She shut her eyes and looked again, but there was nothing wrong with her vision: The ground was shaking. 

A small rolling under their boots grew stronger as the air began to hum with a low, rumbling sound. Scot and his men looked about wildly and grabbed their weapons.

"Malone?" Marguerite began anxiously. The noise was louder now—a frantic sound that made her pulse pound in fear. 

"Stampede!" he shouted as a herd of gangly two-footed dinosaurs burst through the front opening. Veronica called this species "busybodies," harmless plant-eating creatures standing ten feet tall that were easily excitable and terribly clumsy. The herd tore through the camp, crashing into tents, knocking over tables. Scot and his men dodged the heavy-footed beasts while trying to protect their belongings.

In the midst of the chaos, a stealthy blonde woman made her way behind the two captives.

"Veronica!" Ned exclaimed. She quickly cut through his ropes.

"Nice of you to drop in," Marguerite said gratefully. Veronica gave her an I-know-you're-at-fault look and untied her.

"Keep low, and get behind those boulders," she ordered. Once the three friends were safely hidden, shots rang out. "Challenger is on one side, Roxton on the other. Summerlee is standing guard outside," she explained. 

The bandits couldn't fight both the rampaging dinosaurs and the gunfire. One by one, they fell until silence filled the canyon. Marguerite slowly peered over the rock. The camp was in shambles. The busybodies, now calmer, sniffed the ground. As the air cleared, she could see the bodies of several men, including Scot.

Soon, Roxton and Challenger emerged from the rock opening. Marguerite ran into John's waiting arms.

"I'm so glad to see you! Are you alright?" she asked him breathlessly. 

His green eyes were clouded. "I'm fine. Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine," she replied and kissed him lightly.

"What on earth were you doing?" Challenger angrily demanded. Perspiration dampened his faded red-gold hair, and his face was flushed.

"It's a long story," Marguerite said with a smile. "George, how did you get those busybodies through that opening?"

"That was Veronica's idea," John said. He draped his arm around her shoulders. Was she avoiding telling them why she and Ned were captured? Yes. Did he care at that moment? No. "Let's go."

Malone and Challenger filed through the passageway, followed by Veronica.

"My hat!" Marguerite exclaimed and walked quickly back to where it had fallen by the poles.

What happened next seemed to play before her eyes in slow motion. As she reached for her hat, Roxton yelled her name in a tone that instinctively made her crouch down. She looked back over her shoulder and saw Scot charging at her with a knife in his hand. Blood streamed from an angry gash on his forehead. On his heels Roxton was running at full speed. She noticed his hat fly back in the effort. Somehow Marguerite knew he couldn't risk taking a shot at Scot without hurting her. Somehow she knew there was nothing she could do to protect herself.

With a burst of super-human strength, Roxton took an angle at the shorter man just as he lunged at Marguerite. The impact sent the two men crashing through the bushes behind her.

Marguerite scrambled to her feet and stopped short in terror. Roxton and Scot were locked in hand-to-hand combat only inches away from the edge of a cliff. Scot no longer had his knife; Roxton's rifle was only a foot behind him, but she couldn't reach it.

Veronica was somehow by her side, equally unable to come to Roxton's aid. The two men danced a sickening waltz, sometimes to the side, sometimes front and back, but always near the cliff's edge. They had their hands around each other's neck. Suddenly, Roxton was able to spin Scot so the thief's back faced the women. Veronica seized the moment to throw her knife. In the split-second it took for the heavy blade to cut through the air, Scot managed to turn again. The knife struck Roxton in the back.

Both women screamed. Scot shoved Roxton toward the brink. John managed to grab the robber's shirtfront. The two men teetered on the edge for a breathless second, then fell back and out of sight.

Veronica froze. "I hit him," she whispered. She was aware of Marguerite moving swiftly to the cliff's edge and automatically grabbed the older woman's arm. Together they hesitantly inched forward. 

If there was ever a more godforsaken sight on the Plateau, Veronica hoped she would never see it. The valley below was a cauldron of blackness and smoke for miles in either direction. The stench that rose with the whispers of haze was nauseating. The steep cliffs leading downward were barren. The only sound that could be heard was a muffled gurgling below.

"John!" Marguerite screamed. "John! John!"

Her voice fell flat. The valley couldn't even hold an echo. Challenger was there, then Malone and Summerlee. Marguerite heard Veronica choke out what had happened, but her voice seemed strangely far away. A hollowness as deep as the valley below filled her, and she knelt at the spot where Roxton had fallen.

"Tie this rope here and then on me," Malone took charge. The others belayed him over the edge. He had only gone a few feet below the gray smoke, when the rope urgently jerked. It was the signal to bring him up.

Malone was coughing violently as he clawed back onto the ground. "I couldn't breathe!" he wheezed as Veronica wiped his soot-colored cheeks. "There's no air down there!"

"John!" Marguerite was on her feet, running back and forth along the cliff's edge, pushing away the hands that attempted to hold her. "John! John!"

The smoke was all around her, or so it seemed, because everything and everyone grew dim, then blackness.

_Three Weeks Later_

The morning dawned cold and damp in the Zanga village. The explorers sat in silence around the main fire, furtively looking over at Marguerite, who sat off by herself. A slight drizzle fell, and the sky was gray. Marguerite absently pulled the blanket she wore as a shawl tighter around her shoulders, then stood and walked to the hut she and Veronica had been sharing.

"Marguerite, have something to eat," Summerlee called. "You need to keep up your strength."

"You're exhausted. Why not rest a little bit more?" Malone asked.

Marguerite rejoined them carrying her knapsack and rifle. "Tell me, is Roxton having something nice and warm to eat right now? Is he getting the rest he needs?" she asked quietly. She began to check and load her rifle as she had done every morning since Roxton disappeared into the black valley.

Malone had carried Marguerite to the Zanga village after she collapsed. Sinnia, the native medicine woman, told them they had seen Shadow River.

"It is black as a night without stars and burns like fire," she said. "There is no light, no birds, nor air near it. It is death."

Her dire description hadn't stopped the group from gathering some Zanga warriors to search for Roxton. They spent hours combing the area above the valley. Several brave men tried to go down the cliffside but met the same result as Ned. Once, when the smoke briefly cleared, Challenger got a clear view of the "river." It appeared to be lava, ebbing and flowing with hissing bubbles that slowly rose and fell. He turned away, sickened. Roxton couldn't have survived a fall into such a place.

Marguerite had faced the situation stoically. "He's not dead," she informed them matter-of-factly and continued searching. They decided to set up a base camp at the village, because it was close to the river. As the weeks passed, Marguerite's determination never faltered, but she had stopped eating and only slept a few fitful hours a night.

"Marguerite, at least come have your tea," Summerlee said. She reluctantly took the earthen cup he offered and looked from one friend to the next. 

"You don't have to come with me," she told them.

"You aren't going alone," Challenger stated, standing.

"Marguerite, finish your tea," Summerlee quietly commanded. 

She drank it all and began gathering her gear. "I'm going to camp there tonight, so don't expect me back."

"Please be reasonable," Veronica implored.

The heiress put on John's hat. "There's no point in arguing with me, Veronica."

She turned to leave, swayed for a second, and fell back into Malone's waiting arms.

"I was afraid the sleeping potion wouldn't take effect in time," Challenger said. 

Malone carried the unconscious woman into the hut where Veronica took off Marguerite's boots and hat.

"She'll be spitting mad when she wakes up," he predicted.

"Yes," Veronica agreed. "But this is the best thing for her."

As she pulled a blanket over her sleeping friend, the young blonde began to cry.

"Here now," Malone said, pulling her to his chest.

"Ned, if I hadn't thrown that knife…. If I had only…"

"Veronica, you were trying to save him," he whispered.

"How will she ever forgive me?" Veronica said, staring at Marguerite. "Roxton is dead. I'd do anything to bring him back again."

Marguerite awoke at sunset and was, as Malone had guessed, very angry. It had stopped raining earlier, and the sky was serenely blue colored by apricot swirls.

"Who the hell did that to me?" she stormed over to where the others were talking to Sinnia.

"We all did, my dear," Summerlee answered calmly. "You needed to rest."

"And now we've lost entire day!" she shouted. Angry tears spilled as she frantically gathered her belongings. Couldn't they understand that he was out there, probably hurt, waiting for them to save him? _No,_ she thought, _he's waiting for me._

"Marguerite, listen…" Ned began.

"No, thank you, Mr. Malone," she said dangerously. "Leave me alone."

"Marguerite, we have to face facts, as hard as it is," Challenger said slowly. "It's been three weeks."

"That's all the more reason to spend every waking moment searching!"

"The fall alone could have killed him…" Challenger continued.

"Stop it, George."

"We all want him to be alive," Summerlee reached for her arm, but she jerked it away. "However, the odds aren't good."

"Did he give up when that spider bit me? No! Did he quit searching when slavers captured me? No!" She whirled around to face Ned. "Did he lose hope when you were lost in the spirit world? No! He pressed on, in spite of the odds. I will never, never give up on him!"

"You must stop and listen," said Sinnia.

"Don't tell me you're joining this chorus," Marguerite said angrily, resting her hands on her hips.

Sinnia walked up and gently cupped Marguerite's face with her warm, strong hands. "Marguerite, he is not coming back. Not from Shadow River."

"Sinnia," she whispered desperately. "You know how much he loves me. You saw him bring me back to life. Tell me how _I_ can save _him_."

She stared deeply into Marguerite's heartbroken gray eyes. "I cannot. He is gone."

Marguerite angrily pulled Sinnia's hands away from her and began backing up. "Are you telling me that in this horrible place filled with giants and witches and dinosaurs and fairies and Amazons that there is no way to bring someone back from the dead?!"

The group fell silent. Marguerite's heart lurched as her hands flew to her mouth. It was the first time she had acknowledged John might not be alive.

"I didn't mean it! I didn't mean it!" she began to sob. Challenger uncharacteristically wrapped her in a hug.

"Marguerite, as hard as it is to accept, we must. He was a good friend, one of the truest men I ever knew. But you can't defy what nature has brought upon us."

Marguerite pulled away. "Defy? I can't defy? I will damn well defy nature, science, or the heavens themselves to bring him back!"

"Marguerite!" Challenger sternly. "He isn't coming back!"

"Well, he could, you know. There is a way."

Surprised, they turned to see an old Zanga woman sitting nearby. She slowly stood. Her hair was listlessly white, and she walked with a pronounced limp.

"Loma!" Sinnia's voice was harsh. "Pay no attention to what she says, Challenger. She is not right in the head."

Loma continued her halting walk, cackling a brittle laugh. "Oh, I know about Shadow River. Know all about it. Shadow River. That's right. He can be found, you know."

"What do you know?" Marguerite appealed to the woman. "Where can I find Roxton?"

"Marguerite, don't listen to her. She is ill. She spends all her time confined to her hut."

"Tell me!" Marguerite demanded. "I'll give you whatever you want!"

Loma's dark brown eyes were eerily bright. "Shadow River holds its victims for a full cycle of the moon. Those who are pure of heart relive the best moments of their lives. Then they fade away. But those who are damned see the worst times of their lives and know they are about to die." She cackled again. "I'm sure your Roxton is pure of heart."

Marguerite grabbed the old woman's shoulders. "Where? Where is he?"

"Over the mountains that lie behind the sun, to where the rain always falls. Under the waterfall is where you'll find him…." Loma's voice trailed off. She slowly limped away. "But beware of the damned ones. Beware. Yes, that's right. Shadow River."

Sinnia took Loma by the arm and quickly led her away. Marguerite turned to her friends excitedly, the tears still trailing down her cheeks.

"Did you hear that? We have to find him in the next few days!" She looked from one person to the next. Everyone's face was disconsolate. "What's wrong with you? Didn't you hear her?"

"All I heard were the ramblings of an old woman, probably suffering from dementia," Challenger stated sadly. 

"Summerlee! You must realize…." she turned to the older man, but he shook his head.

"No, my dear. As much as I wish it, I don't believe Lord Roxton is alive."

"Ned? Veronica?" she implored. The young couple looked away. Unable to hold back, Marguerite began to sob.

"He is alive! I'm not quitting! I'm not!" she shouted and ran into the hut.

"I'll see to her," said Veronica and followed after Marguerite.

The men looked at one another. They all sorely missed Roxton but knew he couldn't have survived.

"We're going home in the morning," Challenger announced.

The moon was a brightly shining orb in the dark purple sky when Marguerite quietly left the village. She had collected as much food, water, and medical supplies as she could fit into her knapsack. She also carried extra ammunition, a compass, and matches. The air was neither cool nor warm, for which Marguerite was glad. It was good traveling weather. 

Stars—some brilliantly flashing, others dim and faded—washed across the heavens. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"God? I know I don't talk to you as often as I should. But he is a good man. He didn't deserve this fate. He was only there because of me," she swallowed hard. "Please let me find him alive. Please let me find him."

Pulling down the brim of Roxton's hat, Marguerite quickly walked down the path towards the river.

"Which direction were you planning to go?" 

Startled, she whirled around. "Veronica! I thought you were asleep!"

"I stuffed pillows under the blanket."

"Don't try to stop me," Marguerite warned.

"I'm not." The blonde stepped out of the shadows carrying her own knapsack. "I'm going with you."

"But you didn't believe what Loma said."

"That doesn't mean I'm letting you go alone."

The two women stared at one another for a long moment, then began to walk.

"Something Loma said did ring true," Veronica said.

"What?"

"The mountains behind the sun. Due north of here are mountains that, when the sun is high, seem to disappear. I think we should go there."

"How far away is it?"

"A two days' walk."

"Two days?" Marguerite stopped dead in her tracks. "Loma said Roxton would be held a full cycle of the moon. In other words, a month. It'll be a month in four days!"

"I know. That's also how I knew you'd be leaving tonight," Veronica replied. "We'll travel all night and make camp at dawn for a few hours."

"This isn't like you," Marguerite observed. Veronica adjusted her pack and didn't reply.

At first light they stopped, slept awhile, and started off again. The mountain range rose on the horizon, tearing a jagged line against the pale morning sky. Some peaks jutted up several thousand feet; others were bumps in the distance. Marguerite groaned inwardly when she saw how far away they were. But, like Veronica said, as the sun climbed the mountains seemed to vanish. She had no idea if they were 10 miles or 10 feet away. It made the journey easier. 

At midday, they stopped to eat. Marguerite spread a small cloth on the ground and got out her provisions. Veronica sat on a nearby rock.

"Did you tell them?" Marguerite finally asked the question that had been weighing on her mind. Veronica, who was finishing a pear, nodded.

"I left a note."

"Veronica!"

"Marguerite, it would've been irresponsible and, well, mean not to!" she tossed the core into the jungle. "That's why we traveled last night. I wanted to put some distance between us."

"Why?" Marguerite screwed the lid of her canteen back on.

"Why what?"

"Why did you want to get away from them?" Marguerite watched as Veronica stood up. 

"I owe it to you" was all she said. 

Marguerite looked down, her throat tightening. "Let's get going," she whispered.

The jungle foliage thinned as the hours passed, and the tropical heat and humidity dropped as the incline gradually grew over the rolling slopes. The vegetation changed as well. Clinging vines, palm trees, and vivid flowers were replaced with arid grasses and denser underbrush. They walked for as long as they could, then set up camp near some broken shale.

The next day they trekked silently. It was an uncommonly warm day, but soothing breezes blew. They hadn't heard or seen dinosaurs since they left the jungle, but Marguerite had spotted a herd of what resembled bighorn sheep climbing above them. 

The trail was rocky, and the climb was growing steeper. At one point, it edged around a sheer cliff that brought back a flood of bad memories for both women. They carefully walked single-file by the drop-off, trying not to notice the ravine below. 

Bad memories weren't new to Marguerite, but she realized if she dwelled on the negative, it would consume her. Instead, she concentrated on all her recollections of John. She smiled, remembering their first meeting in London and their first scouting mission, alone. She also remembered the time he had succumbed to Danielle's temptation. John had owed Marguerite nothing—and she had no claim on him. Yet, the pain of that incident had nagged at her long afterwards. Had she loved him then?

Her love for him had no beginning: She couldn't remember it not being there. Of course, there were times she hadn't always acknowledged it, but it was burning, growing, maturing. And he loved her. God, how he loved her. 

Marguerite wiped her brow with her sleeve. It was getting hotter. _Is it hot where John is? No, no! she shook off the image. __Remember the first time we kissed, the first time he held me, the first time we…_

Veronica glanced back at the dark-haired woman who had uncharacteristically not uttered a moan or complaint. She turned her eyes back to the poor trail they hiked on. If her calculations were right, they could reach the mountains that evening. She remembered where the pass through the peaks was, but what then? Was she just prolonging Marguerite's suffering?

Veronica's life was a tapestry woven with threads of grief. First, her parents and the rest of their expedition whom she had grown to love had disappeared. Then there were all the empty, lonely years. Next, Danu died. Then she had even briefly lost Ned. Now, by her own hand, Roxton was gone. _If I had only held the knife a minute more, she thought. __Maybe what Loma said could be true. Maybe I can find him._

After sunset, Marguerite looked north and happily saw the mountains reappear only a mile away. She gladly ignored her swollen, blistered feet and doggedly walked on. They stopped near the entrance to the pass. The fire crackled as they stretched out their sleeping rolls.

"Well, we're here," Marguerite said in a falsely bright voice.

Veronica returned the gesture. "Yes, we are! And tomorrow we'll cross the pass and be on the other side."

Marguerite grew serious. "How long do you really think it'll take us to get to 'where it always rains'?"

"I'm not sure," Veronica replied hesitantly. "I've gone through these mountains, but I don't remember a place like that."

Marguerite's heart sank. "We only have two days left."

Unable to think of something to say, Veronica stood. "I'll keep first watch."

Marguerite laid back and closed her eyes, exhausted. Every muscle and bone ached. Her lips were cracked, her skin was burned. Her left foot was throbbing. And a constant feeling of hysteria threatened to overcome her. 

They started through the pass early the next day. The morning mist rose in ghostlike waves and burned off quickly. The pass was actually a well-traveled road. Veronica explained that near the other end was a village of friendly farmers who often traded their crops with neighboring tribes.

"We'll stop there and get some more food," she said. Marguerite nodded. Their supplies were low, only a few pieces of fruit left.

She had slept hard out of exhaustion. A blister on her left heel was festering, but she kept pace with Veronica. _There'll be time enough to rest later, she thought._

Her haggard condition hadn't gone unnoticed. Veronica made sure they rested often as the day wore on. In late afternoon, they approached the Napae village located near the pass. Marguerite shaded her eyes to look up at the terraced hillside dotted with crop workers among the waving grains.

"Can it be? Veronica?" a native man exclaimed. Veronica smiled and hugged the older man. Physically he resembled the Zangas, but his hair was in long braids and his clothes were made from bright, woven fabric.

"Hello, Senda. It's been many years," Veronica smiled. "This is my friend, Marguerite."

"Hello," Marguerite nodded.

"Then you are my friend, too!" Senda exclaimed good-naturedly. He helped an unsteady Marguerite sit down on a wooden bench. "You have traveled far?"

"Yes, far," Marguerite said faintly.

"Liffes! Quickly! Bring out meat and bread for our guests!" he called. A stout woman with a kind smile appeared minutes later with a wooden plate loaded with cooked meat and three different types of bread. She wore a loose-fitting dress with elaborate blue embroidery. 

Veronica and Marguerite ate quickly, not realizing how hungry they were. When they finished, Liffes handed them cups of wine. Senda watched the younger women. "You haven't visited us in many rains, Veronica. What brings you here?"

"We're looking for a place past these mountains, a place where it always rains," Veronica replied.

"Have you heard of it?" Marguerite asked anxiously.

Senda shook his head. "Always rains? There is no such place."

"What about a waterfall? Is there a waterfall nearby?" Marguerite pressed with renewed energy.

"No," Senda said at the same time Liffes said, "Yes."

"Yes, there is, Senda," she contradicted him. "Once you are out of the mountains, go toward the rising sun. You will find a river as wide as it is deep. At the end of it is a waterfall."

"You are right! I had forgotten about it!" Senda exclaimed with a laugh.

"Forgot! You asked me to be yours there!" Liffes feigned indignity. Senda shrugged, and everyone laughed. 

Veronica and Marguerite spent the night in Senda and Liffes' hut, then left before first light. Marguerite walked gingerly. Her foot burned and her calf felt hard and hot. This was the fourth day—the last day. She swung her rifle to the other shoulder and stretched her neck from side to side. Her knapsack was full of provisions the older couple had given them.

"You will need to nourish Roxton," Liffes had said kindly. Not once had they scoffed at her mission or tried to discourage her. They parted with a hug.

It was just after daybreak when Veronica and Marguerite exited the pass and turned east.

"Toward the rising sun," Marguerite stated. Veronica reached over and gave her friend's arm a squeeze. They had only gone a little way when Veronica stopped.

"What?" Marguerite asked.

"Shh!"

"Raptors?" Marguerite asked warily.

"No, it's…" Veronica sprinted off, with Marguerite following. "It's water!"

They arrived at the edge of a glacial-blue river. The current was swift, foaming and crashing around its rocky borders. Swiftly the two women followed it as it twisted and meandered southward. After several miles, the sound they had been hoping for roared in the distance.

"Is it?" Veronica asked, amazed.

"A waterfall! Roxton!!" Marguerite shouted and charged ahead of her blonde companion.

Faster and faster she ran, her heart bounding frantically. He had to be here, he had to be here. The pain in her leg was unbearable but she ignored it. Soon Marguerite could see the deadly precipice over which the river plunged headlong. She carefully eased herself up onto some rocks, silent sentinels above the raging torrent. She looked down and a cry of despair escaped her lips.

The waterfall fell as gracefully as a piece of fine silk. But it fell at least a mile straight down. At the base the water roared back from its long descent in angry, billowing waves that sent spray into her face.

"This is it!" Marguerite suddenly exclaimed as Veronica climbed up next to her. "The rain! The rain!"

"What are you talking about?" Veronica demanded.

"This mist! It's like rain that is always falling!" Marguerite explained. Veronica stared at her, then broke out laughing.

"Is it possible?"

"Loma was right!" Marguerite exclaimed. "He's here somewhere!"

"She said under the waterfall. Let's head down there," Veronica said anxiously. They climbed off the boulders and climbed down the slope to the waterfall's base.

When they arrived on the riverbank, the women got as close to the cascading falls as they could and examined it. The waterfall fell in front of a vertical rock wall. Veronica peered behind the curtain of water. There were no caves, nowhere to hide a prisoner. There wasn't even a slight ledge to walk on. 

"Of all the times I wished Challenger was with me…" she muttered angrily.

"He has to be here! Everything Loma said has been true!" Marguerite cried, pounding on the rock to no avail. Veronica sat down in the downy-soft grass.

"Maybe she was remembering being here when she was young. Maybe she is just a confused old woman," she said dejectedly.

"Veronica, don't you dare give up now, do you hear me?" Marguerite said angrily. "We only have a few more hours of daylight left. Why don't you search the other side of the river?"

Veronica looked up at her friend. "You're right. The river narrows a little bit downstream—do you see it? I'll go there and swim across. You search here."

"Right you are!" Marguerite agreed and watched as her young friend ran away. Then she turned her attention back to the falls. "John Roxton, I am used to getting what I want. I am going to find you!"

Marguerite spent the next hour feeling every crag and crevice she could reach on the rock wall by the falls. But there were no spring doors, no hidden entrances. She slowly slid down to the ground. _Oh God, no. This couldn't have been in vain. He has to be here. He has to be alive, she thought, small bubbles of hysteria rising. __Can everything Loma said have been a horrible coincidence?_

"No!" she commanded herself. "Now think! Mountains behind the sun…always rains…under the waterfall… Under!"

She leapt to her feet and stared into the frothy blue water. She couldn't make out anything. There was only one thing left to do. She painfully took off her boots. After setting John's hat to one side, she dove in.

The shock of the cold water made her skin contract painfully. Gradually, her eyes adjusted to the darkness. The mud swirled under the force of the water; the impact falling water above her head was deafening. She rose for air, then dove again. She swam against the current, looking for something—anything. Just when she thought her lungs would burst, she saw out of the corner of her eye something white. It was as large, but not a rock. The surface was smooth, almost permeable. Marguerite's thoughts were a jumble as her chest began to burn. With one last burst of effort, she swam at the white object.

Suddenly she stood at the entrance to the robbers' box canyon.

Dazed, she turned around fearfully. How could this be? She was just underwater—her clothes were soaked. Yet she was standing on dry land with blue sky above the high hills. But this canyon was different from the one she was held prisoner in. Gone were the shack and poles and the fire pit.

"Roxton!" her voice sounded strange, not her own. She walked as if in a dream, unable to make her limbs move any faster than a crawl. The air seemed to visibly tremble like waves of heat rising off a desert floor. 

"Roxton?" she called into the silence. She turned to the right, where there had been nothing before, and saw a man. Creeping forward, Marguerite peered into his lifeless eyes. It was Scot. His skin and clothing were covered in black pitch. He was alive, barely. His face was contorted in an awful expression of horror. She backed away silently.

Straight ahead was the cliff's edge, no longer hidden by bushes. She forced her leaden legs to continue. She looked to the right and saw nothing but dirt. She willed herself to look left.

Lord John Roxton sat serenely Indian-style with closed eyes. His face was clear and his clothing clean. Veronica's knife lay beside him.

"John!" her cry vibrated in the unnatural silence. She reached for him. His hands were warm. "Stand up, my love, it's time to go home."

She helped him to his feet and slipped Veronica's knife into her pocket. Like a sleepwalker, he let her painstakingly lead him across the canyon to where she had somehow entered this strange prison.

An unearthly wail pulsed through the canyon. Marguerite turned to see Scot rise and run toward her, his black mouth open in a soundless scream.

"Not this time," she said and threw Veronica's knife squarely into his chest. Before her eyes, Scot shattered into a million pieces that faded away. 

"John, can you hear me?" she asked. Roxton only smiled contentedly. "OK, now listen: We'll be going under water. You have to take a deep breath and hold it. Do you understand?"

Marguerite grabbed his arms and shook, but Roxton's dreamlike state continued. With a deep sigh, she pulled him into the passageway. Marguerite knew she had to get him to the surface as quickly as possible. 

And then they were in the water. Marguerite entwined her arms under John's armpits and began kicking toward the surface. She had hoped the shock of the water would wake him, but John was still asleep.

The surface seemed so far away, and Marguerite was so tired. But she had to press on. She had him in her arms again, and there was nothing this side of hell that would make her quit now. But he was dead weight in her arms. She kicked furiously and looked upward. Just when everything was becoming blurry, Marguerite thought she saw someone swimming toward her. It was Veronica, taking Roxton out of her arms and furiously stroking topside. 

The light shining through the rippling surface seemed so far away. She had done it. She had found him. Marguerite tried to swim but knew she was fading. And somehow that was OK—John was safe. The world grew cloudy and faded to an easy black.

Marguerite sighed. She heard the comforting crackling of a fire and smelled meat cooking. She frowned as her stomach growled. She wanted to continue to lie here where it was so warm. Why was Summerlee cooking right now, anyway? Why did they always have to wake her from her naps? No, that wasn't right. Her frown deepened—something had happened.

Her eyes flew open, and she sat straight up. "John!" she cried out.

"I'm right here, my love."

Marguerite was on her knees, wrapping her arms around the hunter as he knelt next to her on the blanket. She pulled back and studied his face. The same strong jaw, the same compassionate green eyes. He seemed unharmed. She pulled her to him and showered his face with kisses.

"You're here! You're here!" she cried over and over again.

"Yes, thanks to you. And we're here, too," announced Challenger's baritone voice. Marguerite turned to see the professor, Summerlee, and Malone sitting near the roaring fire they had made on the riverbank. Veronica was asleep nearby.

"How? When?" she began, still staring at John as if she were afraid he'd vanish before her eyes.

"After we found Veronica's note, we followed you," Malone explained. "But you traveled so quickly, you were always one step ahead of us."

"How did you know where we went?" she asked.

"Sinnia speculated the mountain range Loma referred to was this one," Summerlee said.

"Your new friends—Senda and Liffes—told us where the waterfall was," Challenger said. "We arrived on the bank in time to see Veronica dive into the water."

Marguerite looked over at her friend, who was now awake and listening to them recount the story.

"It took me longer than I thought it would to cross the river," Veronica reported. "I was searching the other side of the river and called for you, but you didn't answer. Something below the surface of the water caught my eye—maybe it was your white blouse." 

"I saw Veronica dive in, and I followed after her," Malone continued the narrative. "I couldn't believe my eyes! You were dragging Roxton to the surface the best you could, then Veronica took him and everything seemed to be under control. Then you blacked out and started to sink. So, I brought you up."

"I was shocked speechless to see Veronica pull Roxton from the water. Summerlee and I helped pull him to shore, and then Malone emerged with you in his arms! We started this fire to warm all of you up," Challenger explained. 

"And you? How are you?" Marguerite asked John. "Do you remember what happened?"

"It's the damndest thing!" he said, rubbing his brow. "I remember fighting that man. But then it was like I was having the most wonderful dream! I saw my brother again, and my mother and father. We were on our estate, and it was springtime. Then I was on a hunt in North America. But mostly the dream was about you," he said, kissing her forehead. 

"And your back?" Veronica asked anxiously.

"My back?" Roxton twisted from side to side. "Is there something supposed to be wrong with my back?"

The group laughed in relief.

"You dreamt mostly of me?" Marguerite asked, remembering Loma's words.

"I saw the first time we met, the first time we kissed, the first time we…" He raised his eyebrows meaningfully, bringing a warm blush to her cheeks. "The next thing I knew, Veronica is slapping my face, and I am coughing up half the river! Then I saw Malone carrying you to shore!"

"Thank you for that," Marguerite said to the young journalist. "And thank you, Veronica. I couldn't have done this without you," she said to her friend.

"Marguerite, I believe this was another test we were given," said Challenger. "You passed; we failed. You never lost faith or hope."

"It was a test of true love," Veronica said. "Someday, Roxton, I'll tell you everything Marguerite went through to save you."

Roxton looked down at Marguerite, overcome with emotion.

"And," Veronica's voice trembled, "you need to know I caused this to happen. I threw a knife when you were fighting that man, but it hit you. I made you fall over that cliff."

"No, Veronica," Marguerite said softly. "The only reason John was on that cliff was because of me."

"I was on that cliff because that bastard tried to kill you!" Roxton interjected. "I fell not because of you, not because of Veronica. Because of that piece of scum!"

"Tell me, Marguerite: Where did you find Roxton? What was it like?" Challenger's eyes gleamed with curiosity.

"Well, George, that's a story for another day," Marguerite said and suddenly grabbed her leg in pain.

"What is it?" asked a worried Roxton.

Summerlee took a small knife from their first-aid kit and carefully slit Marguerite's pant leg. Her left calf was terribly infected.

"Oh God," murmured Malone.

"It's nothing," Marguerite moaned as Roxton eased her back onto the blanket. "Everything's fine now…"

They camped near the river until Marguerite was well enough to travel. On the day they left to go home, a gentle breeze carried butterfly-like white petals from the flowers that climbed the shimmering trees of the valley. A shaft of sunlight formed a natural path across the green grass. Challenger and Summerlee led the way, loudly discussing this area of the plateau's flora and fauna. Ned and Veronica followed in a companionable silence. Roxton and Marguerite brought up the rear. Challenger had outfitted some crude crutches, but Roxton insisted on carrying her.

Marguerite leaned her head against his chest.

"What are you thinking about?" Roxton asked.

"Only how utterly perfect this moment is," she replied, smiling up at him. "Isn't this valley lovely?"

Roxton nodded. "I can just picture a house over in that grove."  

"What about going home? To London?" she asked. 

"Here with you, this feels like home," he replied. 

Marguerite's smile faded. "Oh, John. When I thought I had lost you…"

"But you didn't. And you never will."

"I was so frightened," her voice shook.

John stopped and gently set Marguerite down on a fallen log. "My love, I am only alive because of you. You didn't let me go." John's green eyes were suddenly filled with tears as he sat down next to her.

"And I never will," she whispered before kissing him. She had never felt so close to him.  "John?"

"Hmmm?" he mumbled distractedly, kissing her neck.

"Do you remember the day you brought me home after I was kidnapped?"

"Yes?"

"I was in shock, still frightened, not even near being able to deal with what had happened to me."

"I know. Why are you bringing this up now?" Roxton stopped kissing her.

"I wanted you to understand why I said no then. And why I'm saying yes now."

"Yes to what, my darling Marguerite?"

"Yes, John. I'll marry you."


End file.
